


now, let me go.

by wolfchester



Category: Tenet (2020)
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, anyway here are some feelings, i am sad, the ending of this movie fcked me up, the whole film fcked me up let's be honest, there are so many fics just like this but i'm adding my two cents just bc i Can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26356423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfchester/pseuds/wolfchester
Summary: “you’ve known me for years?”“for me, i think this is the end of a beautiful friendship.”
Relationships: Neil & The Protagonist (Tenet), Neil/The Protagonist (Tenet)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 257





	now, let me go.

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Now, let me go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29001201) by [FatimaAlegra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatimaAlegra/pseuds/FatimaAlegra), [WTF Nolan Brothers 2021 (NolanBrothers)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NolanBrothers/pseuds/WTF%20Nolan%20Brothers%202021)



> because i’m sad and need to write my own version of events for the end scene. i love my backwards boyfriends. never thought an action movie would make me feel this much but there you go

_ “There is no greater love than this: that a person would lay down his life for the sake of his friend.” _

_ \- John 15:13 - _

_ * _

The bag. The charm. The red string.

The man at the opera.

The man at the turnstile.

The inverted bullet.

The slumped body.

All that fucking blood inside the face mask.

_ Fuck! _

It was him.

It has always been him.

"Neil, wait!" You can’t let him leave like this. Not when you know he’s about to go and die for you. You can’t ask him to die for you. 

Neil turns to look at you with that smile. That _ fucking _ smile. The one that says,  _ I know.  _ "Just saved the world,” he says. “Can’t leave anything to chance."

Does he know he’s going to take a bullet for you? If he knows, why is he acting so cavalier?

What does he know that you don’t?

"But can we change things if we do it differently?" you ask desperately, hopelessly.

_ You can’t ask him to die for you. _

He shrugs. "What happens happened. Which is an expression of faith in the mechanics of the world. It’s not an excuse to do nothing." 

He’s too selfless for his own fucking good. 

"Faith?" 

"Call it what you want."

"What do you call it?"

"Reality.” He smiles again. You want to ask him to stay, but he says, “Now, let me go." And despite not understanding a fucking thing, you somehow know that you have to.

He is turning away from you again, that red string and bronze charm swaying with the movement. You think again of the opera, the man who saved you. The man that, all this time, was Neil.

"Hey,” you shout. He stops and spins on his heels to face you. “You never did tell me who recruited you, Neil."

His face blossoms into a grin. "Haven’t you guessed by now?” he laughs, and the sound feels out of place in this Russian wasteland. “You did! Only not when you thought. You have a future in the past. Years ago for me. Years from now for you."

Your heart is in your throat. Tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes. "You’ve known me for years?" you ask, breathless.

“For me, I think this is the end of a beautiful friendship,” he says with another smile, and as the words leave his mouth, yelled out over the dirt and the rubble, you  _ finally  _ understand.

“But for me, it’s just the beginning,” you reply, bewildered. 

_ This can’t be true. This can’t be real. I don’t believe it.  _

(You used to believe that time only went forwards, though, so there’s that.)

He’s moving again, walking backwards now, his front still facing you. You can’t get your feet to follow him. You think that maybe you’d be unable to follow him, even if you tried. Maybe it’s not the way it’s supposed to go. "We get up to some stuff,” he says. “You’re going to love it. You’ll see. This whole operation is a temporal pincer,” he shouts, straining to be heard over the sound of the chopper.

"Whose?"

"Yours! You’re only halfway there. I’ll see you at the beginning, friend."

And then he is turning from you, backpack slung over his shoulder, and it hits you: you’ll never see him like this again.

You realise that you will love him. 

You have known him only for two weeks in this timeline, but you know — you  _ know _ — you will love him in all the others. Hundreds of timelines. Thousands, maybe.

Perhaps you already love him. In whatever way the word means.

You don’t know when it happened, only that it is. Like your present soul is connected to your future and your past selves, which are calling out to you from the void of spacetime, saying,  _ this man; this man is yours, forever. _

You love him and he is walking away, off to save your life a second time. 

You love him, and you let him die for you.

*

The next time you see him you are on a mission in Cairo, and you meet him in a bar, not unlike the one in Mumbai. It’s the first meeting for him; second for you. 

He is younger. He doesn’t remember you. 

But he is alive.

And that is all that matters.

You order him a gin and tonic.

“I’m more of a martini guy,” he says, confused.   


You smile. “No. You’re not.”

**Author's Note:**

> yeah im crying 
> 
> come talk on tumblr @jjmaybank


End file.
